


Luxuries on the Road

by UndyingEmbers



Category: Pathfinder: Kingmaker (Video Game), Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, No Alpha Spoilers, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndyingEmbers/pseuds/UndyingEmbers
Summary: Being a nobleman, Daeran is not used to certain aspects of adventuring life. Fortunately, the Commander is there to help.
Relationships: The Commander/Daeran Arendae (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous)
Kudos: 7





	Luxuries on the Road

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little intimate scene between my MC and his intended love interest. My Commander is a Lawful Neutral tiefling arcanist. He’s also on the autism spectrum, so some social cues will not be immediately obvious to him.

Daeran hated long trips. Crusading wasn’t as terribly droll as he’d thought it’d be, as long as the party got to do something fun, but camping was the worst. Instead of four-poster feather beds with velvet sheets, Daeran was forced to sleep in a tent and a sleeping roll (he wasn’t even allowed to bring his luxurious pavilion, can you imagine?). He had to pack things himself, get dressed and do his hair by himself, and they even expected him to cook! He still didn’t understand why Lenarius refused to bring servants along—something, something about “safety” and “travel logistics” and some other nonsense that Daeran had only paid half attention to.

The worst, most unbearable part of all this was that he had to shave himself. Everything else was intolerable, but manageable. However, for some reason, whenever Daeran tried to lather his face with his expensive and imported shaving creams and take his jewel-studded adamantine razor to his face, he’d freeze up, unable to proceed. He was so afraid to cut his face—or worse perform a substandard shaving job and leave his face an absolute mess!—that he just could not do it. 

Daeran’s hair grew slowly enough that this little problem wouldn’t be so bad for one or two day trips, but after the third day Daeran’s face would start growing a soft and somewhat wavy blond fuzz. It was completely unseemly, and he could barely stand to return to Drezen in such a state, hurrying to his mansion for his barber to take care of it.

The commander never seemed to have this issue. It seemed that no matter the situation, Lenarius almost always looked impeccable: well-groomed dark hair, polished horns, manicured fingers, a fashion sense to almost rival Daeran’s own, and, more relevantly, a well-shaved face with a nicely-trimmed goatee. Daeran didn’t know how Lenarius managed it.

After spending over a day adventuring in some nasty dungeon and beginning another two-day trip back to Drezen, Daeran had a chance to catch Lenarius alone at camp. This adventure would be the worst one yet for Daeran’s poor face. His chin and cheeks were already really fuzzy. He didn’t even want to imagine the state he would be in when he returned home.

When he asked Lenarius how he managed to maintain such a fine shave every day, Lenarius said with a completely straight face, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Shaving is just part of my routine. You should try it sometime. You look dreadful.”

“Commander, your words wound me more than I could possibly say.” Daeran kept a charming and light tone, but on the inside, he actually was a little annoyed and affronted.

“Is everything all right?” asked Lenarius.

Daeran groaned. “Fine. I’ve never done it myself before, and I would like to have this taken care of before we get back to civilization.”

Lenarius rubbed his forehead. “Do you want me to do it for you?”

Daeran smiled and his next words oozed with politeness and grace. “I would be honored if you would help me with this dilemma.” This was humiliating, but at least he was getting help without actually having to ask for it.

The next morning—at a very ungodly hour—Lenarius shook Daeran awake. Daeran protested as Lenarius reminded him that they had an appointment together and that they had better get to it if they wanted to pack up the camp and get ready to leave after dawn. Right. Everything had to adhere to the commander’s stupid schedules.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” said Lenarius (and at that point Daeran was just awake enough to see that even at this hour Lenarius looked immaculately dressed and shaved), “bring your shaving equipment and don’t dawdle.”

Daeran had to bite the urge to stick his tongue out as Len walked away.

Daeran made him wait. Lenarius was not the only one in the group who needed an inordinate amount of time to look as stunning as possible before heading out. Lenarius didn’t say anything about Daeran being late; the tiefling just wagged his tail impatiently and gave Daeran quick glare, which Daeran ignored whole-heartedly.

“Come this way.” Lenarius led the way to his tent. Now, following his incredibly handsome commander into his tent had been one of Daeran’s fantasies for quite some time. Unfortunately, Lenarius did not invite him to perform any sordid activities when the tent flaps closed. Instead Lenarius bade Daeran to sit down on a foldable chair next to where a washbasin had been set up. They didn’t have a proper apron, so they had to make do with a towel.

Lenarius carefully applied Daeran’s shaving cream—Daeran allowed Lenarius to cup his face and pull his head back—but the commander looked at the jeweled razors with askance.

“I’ll just use mine.” Lenarius produced from his pack a razor that was undoubtably cheaper than Daeran’s, but it was thinner and sharper—mithril with a mahogany handle. Daeran’s pulse quickened when Lenarius started sharpening the thing, and he forced himself to look upwards as he heard the sounds of the razor scraping against the leather.

“Are you nervous, Count?” Lenarius asked. Daeran just scoffed.

Lenarius sighed. “All right then.”

Lenarius barely touched the blade to Daeran’s cheek when Daeran stiffened.

“What’s the matter?” Lenarius asked, half concerned and half annoyed.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Daeran.

“Yes, I know what I’m doing, now hold still,” said Lenarius.

Daeran closed his eyes as Lenarius ran the blade across his left cheek. Wonderful. Now they had to commit, lest Daeran’s face look like a patchwork mess.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” There was more than a hint of softness in the way Lenarius spoke that sentence, almost as if he were afraid that he had done something wrong.

“I know you won’t deliberately harm me, you idiot,” Daeran retorted. “You just better not ruin my face with your ineptness.”

Lenarius’s features hardened, but the corner of his mouth curled into a wry smile. “Well, when we compare my face to yours after an adventuring trip, it is easy to tell which of us is inept at shaving.”

“My, what a sharp tongue you have, Commander,” said Daeran. “If your razor doesn’t cut me, then I am certain your words will.”

Daeran allowed Lenarius to continue his work with fewer interruptions. They squeezed in some pleasant conversations between strokes of the razor. It became quickly evident that Lenarius was very adept; each stroke of the razor felt feather-light on Daeran’s skin, and Lenarius shaved every corner: under the chin, around the lips, everywhere. Daeran almost felt that he could relax completely. When Lenarius held Daeran’s head with his long, soft fingers, Daeran allowed his commander to move it to get a better angle.

“You’re very good at this,” Daeran said when Lenarius took a break to rinse the razor in the basin.

“When I was growing up, the servants wouldn’t come near me,” said Lenarius, “so I had to learn how to do some things on my own.”

“Well, I hope you are surrounded by less foolish people now,” said Daeran. “Then again, you are leading the Crusades…”

“I was about to say…” said Lenarius. “Hold on; I’m almost done.”

Lenarius shaved off one last patch of the shaving cream before wiping the rest of it off with a wet cloth, but he wasn’t quite finished yet. Under the light of a magic globe that he had summoned, Lenarius inspected his handiwork, making sure that he didn’t miss a hair. His dark brows furrowed in concentration.

His face was so close to Daeran’s. Not that Daeran really minded. He could smell Lenarius’s cologne, the scent of lemongrass and cedarwood and…something else that Daeran could not name.

Daeran was right in the middle of fantasizing Lenarius doing things to him with his mouth when Lenarius suddenly plucked a stray chin hair with a pair of tweezers. Daeran gasped and pushed Lenarius away, affronted.

“Did you just…?” he asked.

Lenarius adjusted his glasses. “If I’d left anything behind, you would have criticized me for doing a shoddy job.”

Daeran let out an annoyed sigh and demanded a hand mirror, which Lenarius wordlessly handed to him. The job was…satisfactory. Daeran could now rest knowing that he didn’t have to walk around with any unsightly facial hair on him.

And yes, maybe he would have berated Lenarius if Lenarius had been anything but exceptionally thorough.

Daeran allowed Lenarius to apply the aftershave, any excuse to have Lenarius run those soft hands on his skin…

“You’re the best commander the Crusades ever had,” Daeran said with a smirk as he got up to leave, nearly forgetting his shaving equipment.

“I try,” Lenarius said dryly.

“Our time together, as always, has been an unmitigated pleasure.” He graced Lenarius with a courteous, almost mocking bow as he was about to leave the tent.

But then Lenarius almost caught him off guard by taking Daeran’s hand and kissing it. “Likewise,” he said. His expression was just as placid as Daeran had ever seen, but there was something different, almost knowing in Lenarius’s yellow eyes.

Daeran only had a moment to notice before Lenarius turned from him to finish packing.


End file.
